About Me

I'm Susan K. Droney and I write in several genres: children's books, mainstream fiction, thrillers, mysteries, and sensual/erotic romances.
I am published by Torrid Books, World Castle Publishing, and Devine Destinies.
Please click on the book covers or visit my website at: http://susandroney.com to read reviews, excerpts or to order my books.

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Why are all these people standing around my car? Maybe they are just curious as to why it's been abandoned on the side of the road. No, that doesn't make sense, but it's the only explanation I can think of right now.

I need to push my way through this crowd and get into my car and be on my way. I'm pushing, but no one is even acknowledging my presence. I'm speaking, but why aren't they responding? Why do they appear as though they are looking right past me? I'm waving my arms. "Hello! Please let me through!"

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Christine's jaw clenched and her fists tightened into little balls. Today, the mental institution was releasing Jackson Bridges back into society. The monster that had destroyed her daughter's life and changed Christine's forever was being set free. He'd walk out on two good legs and breathe on his own without tubes connected to his body. He'd eat his meals without a feeding tube being crammed down his throat. He'd probably, most likely, marry again and, God forbid, bring a new batch of monsters into this world. She fought back bitter tears.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

He'd never intended to get involved with Chelsea. He wasn't even attracted to her, but one night after he'd finished putting up some bookshelves for her, she'd handed him a cold beer and asked his advice on a personal matter. She was just a kid to him, and he'd only wanted to offer her guidance as a father would to his daughter.

As they talked, she kept supplying the beer and he kept drinking it. She seductively crossed her long slender legs several times as they conversed, and his eyes couldn't help but travel up to her hemline, which showed her young tender thighs. Now looking back, he realized that he was being set up. She'd charmed him and made him feel twenty again, complimenting him on all the areas his male ego loved, inflating him until he was ready for the kill. She'd made him briefly forget that Maggie was the only woman he wanted and loved.

He was sick to his very core afterward. There was no excuse for what he'd done, and there was no changing that fact. After their one-night stand, he tried avoiding Chelsea, but she began showing up in the places she knew he'd be. She was a close friend of Janna Evans, and even though Chris had nothing personal against Janna, he couldn't stand her husband Brant. He'd known Brant ever since Brant was a young boy and Chris had been hired to do some remodeling on the Evans' home. During his breaks, Brant would sit asking all kinds of questions. As Chris worked that summer, he thought it odd that Brant had few playmates, but in time, even at such a young age, Brant's nastiness showed through in the way he treated the few boys who came around. He was a selfish, self-centered boy, and as Chris's work on the Evans' home came to an end, Chris realized why the boy was avoided like the plague.

Since that time, Brant had considered Chris a friend and occasionally invited him to social functions. Chris only attended knowing it was better to have Brant for a friend rather than an enemy. Brant's reputation was well known, and his malevolence came full circle when he joined the police department. It didn't take him long to infiltrate his self-absorbed power with a few of his coworkers who secretly shared his wickedness but had been uncertain how to put it to use. That was until Brant Evans came along.

Chris recalled the conversation he'd recently had with Brant when Brant had unexpectedly shown up at his apartment.

"We need to talk, Jacoby."

Chris eyed him suspiciously knowing from the way he held himself erect and the squaring of his jaw that Brant wasn't in the mood for games. But then, Brant Evans didn't possess even the remotest sense of humor as far as Chris was concerned. "What can I do for you, Brant?"

"You know that my wife and Chelsea are best friends."

He nodded. "I'm aware of that."

Brant leaned against the doorjamb. "It seems we have a problem." He thoughtfully pulled on his chin.

Chris shrugged his shoulders and frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about. Is there something I can help you with?"

Brant laughed. "Get off it, Chris. For God's sake, you don't just fuck a young beauty like Chelsea Howard and walk away. What the hell's the matter with you?"

Chris ran his hand through his hair as the color drained from his face. "What happened between Chelsea and me was a big mistake. For Christ's sake, Brant, she's just a kid. It never should have happened." He emphatically shook his head back and forth wondering why she'd even mentioned that night. He supposed it was another sign of the times that he hated so much. Years ago a woman never would have mentioned the most intimate details of her sexual experiences to her friends. Or at least he'd always assumed that women were above the locker-room mentality of men. "I'll always regret it."

"This happens to be my apartment," Kami shot back. "You have no right to speak to me this way in my own home."

"You’re a smart woman, Blaine," Casey continued. "We’re on your side. Whatever’s going on right now, we can help."

Blaine looked at the three women surrounding her, her gaze finally resting on Casey. "Leave me alone, please," she said in a low voice.

Casey’s jaw briefly tightened, then relaxed. "Okay, fine. I hope you know what you’re doing." She turned to leave, then looking once more at Blaine, said, "You know where to reach us."

Blaine choked back tears. "I’m sorry."

Casey pulled a card and a pen from her pocket. She scribbled something on it, and then thrust it into Blaine’s trembling hand. "Here’s my private cell phone number. Call me day or night. You probably don’t believe this, but I care." She glanced at Jane. "We both care."